


We Suck

by Camorra



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Character Turned Into Vampire, M/M, Polygamy, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camorra/pseuds/Camorra
Summary: Dying is the easy part.It's living with your two immortal husbands that's hard.Because they suck.





	We Suck

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween everybody!  
> and thanks to yu, who actually read through this. twice. three time, if you count it's first, awful incarnation.   
> she's the Best.   
> (except for the two scenes i included later. happy hunting, yu >:D)

It s, without contest, the weirdest meeting he’s ever been a part of.

And he occasionally works with a headless death god.

He stops Shiki on the third slide. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

Shiki gives him a look. “I thought that was quite obvious, yes.”

The name of the PowerPoint _was_ ‘Reasons Wedding Would be an Excellent Idea.’ Izaya thought that might just be Shiki’s sense of humor making a last-ditch cry for help. “Why is Akabayashi here, ne?”

Akabayashi looks up from his phone and waves. “Don’t mind me.”

“He’s my other husband,” Shiki says, as if this is not only perfectly obvious, but clearly not relevant to the situation at hand.

“Oh, of course. And you couldn’t have asked the traditional way with a ring and fancy dinner? Or even a string of dead bodies with one word at each scene? Setting buildings on fire to spell it out?”

Shiki is unimpressed. Izaya would have been very impressed. He would have said ‘yes’ and ‘take me now’ if Shiki had set some buildings on fire. “This is a decision that can’t be made lightly. It’s eternity, after all.”

Izaya laughs, “do death do us part might be a lifetime, but it’s not _eternity,_ ne?”

“I told you it should be slide one,” Akabayashi comments. “Slide fifty doesn’t really get the severity across.”

Shiki glares at him. “It’s organized in order of most convincing argument to least, with cons last followed by the strongest argument.”

“Did you get that out of some psychology textbook?”

“Not that this isn’t entertaining,” Izaya cuts in, “but what exactly are you talking about?”

“Oh,” Akabayashi says drily, “we’re vampires.”

❖

Turning doesn’t actually take that long.

It’s a simple process really. A little bit of near murder. A little but of convincing Izaya that it’s not some weird fetish.

After feeding Izaya a bit (most) of his blood and some of Akabayashi’s, Izaya just has to writhe about in some of the most unimaginable agony for a bit and you’ve got yourself a new vampire.

Easy.

Akabayashi, of course, leaves it to Shiki to wash Izaya off in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the bathroom after his Turning.        

“I can’t do it like you do, babe,” Akabayashi says, sauntering out the door. “Never to your neat-freak standards. I’m sure you’ll do _juuuust_ fine.”

“Make sure all the windows are covered before you go to bed,” Shiki says mildly, taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

“Kids these days,” Akabayashi mutters as he wanders off, “so _spoiled_. When I was his age, there wasn’t anyone around to _close_ the blinds, you just crawled under a rock and hoped you didn’t die.”

He says that, but Shiki can hear the click of the heavy-duty blocks snapping into place, of windows being locked.

Izaya surfaces to something like consciousness during the third scrub-down with a groan. A now-clean hand arches toward his face to settle on gently on his forehead and his eyes crack open just a sliver.

But it’s enough to see how they’ve changed.

Gone is any trace of brown that might have once been, stripped bare to show the red underneath.

But they’re not red like Akabayashi’s, not bright red like the sky at sunset. They’ve taken on his own dark tone too. They’re the red of rotten fruit and fresh blood.

They’re _gorgeous._

He doesn’t realize he’s settled his hand on Izaya’s face until there’s a small nibble on his thumb.

Ah, yes. Izaya’s teeth. He’ll learn to retract them in time. But for now.

“I’ll feed you when you’re clean,” Shiki reprimands lightly. “But not too much. It’s morning, you know. Can’t eat too much before bed.”

He’s sure he said this to Izaya before, and then watched him plow through an ungodly amount of good before passing out in a sort of food coma. But Izaya was human then.

“Vampires actually sleep?” Izaya says, words slurred around exhaustion and new teeth. “Who’d have thought, ne?”

“It’s regenerative,” Shiki says. “When you get old enough, you won’t have to. Unless you do something stupid and get yourself injured. Akabayashi sleeps quite often.”

“And how old is he? How old are _you_?”

“Old enough that it’s rude to ask.”

Well, Izaya’s as clean as he’s going to get, which is just clean enough to squeak under Shiki’s nice sheets.

“How old can you get?”

“Until you die, up you get.” Shiki hauls Izaya up from the tub by his armpits, setting him on the toilet like an angry wet kitten and wrapping him in a towel.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking myself,” Izaya protests. “Some might consider me an expert after twenty one years, no?”

Twenty-one? Already lying about his age? He’ll adapt to his new life just fine.

“You died less than twenty-four hours ago, I think you might find that you’re a bit weaker than you expect.”

That, unlike becoming a vampire and agreeing to enter a gay-three way marriage, seems to give Izaya pause.

“So, I really am dead.”

That’s part of being an un-dead creature of the night. But Izaya’s had a rough few hours, he’ll let this one pass.

“Yes,” Shiki says, gauging Izaya for a reaction. “I imagine you have questions.”

Izaya smiles, a vague sort of thing that seems half crazed, “a few.”

Shiki wrestles him into a pair of PJ’s and sets him on the couch. Much better place for birds and bees discussions.

“Basics, then,” Shiki says, sitting on the couch. “You drink blood now. Any sort, really, but I find human tastes best.”

And he’s tried many. Variety is the spice of life.

“Hm, is it still possible to eat normal foods?”

“If you want. You’ll find they don’t taste the same, rather bland. Foods with strong tastes are usually best, but you might want to stick with beverages, passing solids can be quite unpleasant.”

“Speak from experience, ne? So bodily functions work, then. Fascinating.”

“In a sense. Your heart still beats. You can recover from quite a lot, but nothing that damages the heart,” Shiki gives Izaya a wry grin. “And one other important one.”

Izaya cocks an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“You’ve experienced it,” he says dryly. Because he knows he’s not the only one that has fond memories of long nights in hotel rooms and Izaya’s apartment. He distinctly remembers that one time he managed to make Izaya _scream,_ so keyed up after about three hours of orgasm denial that the very movement of air against his skin was too much.

“Ah.”

Yes, Izaya remembers.

When Shiki reaches to pull Izaya in, Izaya goes easily, leaning his back against Shiki’s chest. Pliant.

It’s calm in a way Izaya so rarely is. Sometimes you can snatch moments of peace with him, but it’s like being in the eye of the storm, knowing that any second the wind could blow and the peace will shatter. But this is the simple quiet of Izaya relaxing.

 Izaya plays with Shiki’s fingers, turning them over and examining like they’re new and undiscovered territory, bending and flexing them like he’s making sure they work.

“You should wear a ring,” Izaya tells him, circling the base of his ring finger with a fingertip. “Might prevent further confusion, ne?”

He supposes Izaya has the right to ask that now. But before Shiki can answer, Izaya’s stomach growls loudly and adamantly.

“Glad to see your appetite hasn’t changed.” Shiki turns his arm so the underside of a wrist is visible. “Here.”

Izaya grasps it, “I thought it was traditionally done from the neck, no?”

Like hell he’s getting blood all over his nice, clean sofa. “I don’t want to have to clean blood from the couch again, starting small is fine.”

Izaya’s teeth don’t hurt as he sinks them in. He’s not splashing drops into an endless void, he’s floating. He’s intimately connected to Izaya, they’re one and the same and—

Shiki gently pulls his wrist back from Izaya’s iron grip, he’s given a lot today, and the irony of a vampire dying of blood loss is too much. Izaya’s eyes almost seem to glow in the dim light, ruby red matching the blood on his lips, and he’s so beautiful with his face tilted up towards Shiki, looking somewhere between sated and restless.

It takes some gymnastics, but Shiki slides down to his knees on the floor. Izaya’s tracking him with his eyes, but is otherwise still. Like a predator. The instincts are strong in this one. “Quite alright, Izaya?” Shiki says, nudging Izaya’s thighs open. “The first time is always exhilarating.”

Izaya’s smile is lopsided, “that’s one way to put it."

Shiki runs his hands up Izaya’s thighs, stopping before he reaches the tent in Izaya’s borrowed clothes.

“Which brings us to the other retained biological function,” Shiki snaps his eyes up, “let me take care of it for you?”

Izaya waves a hand magnanimously, “by all means.”

Shiki doesn’t know if he had a gag reflex as a human.

He doesn’t have one _now._

Izaya groans, hands flying to grip Shiki’s hair. It’s always such fun to undo people, and Izaya makes it _obvious._ He’s moaning, fingers twitching and thighs straining and whimpering. Shiki lets it go on until Izaya looks desperate, until he’s panting even though he needs no air.

Izaya comes as soon as he pulls off, sucking great breathes in. “Another hidden skill, ne?”

“Blood isn’t all I can suck.”

Izaya snickers, “that’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Give me time, I’ll get worse,” Shiki says as he pushes to his feet.

“Promise?”

“Don’t need to promise a certainty. Are you ready to go to bed?”

Izaya stretches, lifting his arms high. “Suppose I could.”

Izaya’s hands are spidery and thin, but contain strength as Shiki helps Izaya up, only to scoop him up as Izaya’s knees give out.

Izaya offers no protest, just curls into Shiki’s chest and enjoys the trip to the bedroom.

“What, no coffin?”

“What for? The windows are covered.”

“And vampires need to sleep, hm?”

“Need is a strong word, but it helps with regeneration and generally feeling more refreshed—”

Akabayashi sits up, “so you’ll be coming to bed?”

“Well—”

“Because we wouldn’t want Izaya to get the wrong idea,” Akabayashi goes on. “That anyone should just go without.”

“No,” Shiki says, “that would be terrible.”

“It would.”

Akabayashi continues to watch expectantly until Shiki starts to strip.

“You can touch them if you want,” Shiki hears Akabayashi say as he looks for his own set of pajamas. He could just snag a pair of Akabayashi’s, of course.

But then Akabayashi would _coo_ and make noises about how _adorable_ and it’s just easier to wear his own. 

“Is it really you who gets to choose the designs, hmm? Or more the artist?”

“I had some input, but the artist really designed and constructed the whole thing. Shouldn’t interfere with a professional, you know?”

“So the wave designs?”

“Mostly him, said I reminded him of the ‘still waters on top of the roiling ocean.’”

 _“_ Pretty on the outside, full of shit and nasty creatures the closer you look?” Shiki says, tugging up the covers.

“Aww, you think I’m pretty? _Babe,_ I’m _touched.”_

 _“_ Be quiet, you overgrown child.”

“Love you, too, jackass.”

❖

Izaya starts out as all Newborns do, weak and ravenous.

“When can we start him on solids,” Akabayashi whines, hands traveling around Izaya’s body while Izaya gulps greedily from his neck.

“Why?” Shiki says, leaning against the wall leading to the kitchen with a cup of coffee. “You hardly look put out.”

“Oh, I’m putting out plenty,” Akabayashi says, grasping Izaya’s ass to reel him in closer. “Just wanna show him to hunt, is all.”

“I’m not sure your method will sit right with him,” Shiki says, but Akabayashi’s not listening to him anymore. Neither of them are, and with good reason. Izaya’s gone from latched to Akabayashi’s neck to working down his chest, ripping through the fabric in his way with casual strength.

Not that Akabayashi is showing any restraint either, Izaya is naked before he is, lithe pale body undulating with a sinuous grace above Akabayashi’s dark tattoos and bulkier frame.

He’s beautiful.

Izaya’s new eyes are scarlet in the light, pale hand seeming to glow against the dark of Akabayashi’s tattoos on his chest.

“Izaya,” Akabayashi croons, hands tightening on Izaya’s hips. “Let me, let _me.”_

“Yes,” Izaya breathes. “ _Yes.”_

They’re beautiful, tangled on the couch, breathing heavily even as it isn’t necessary, as Akabayashi runs a hand slowly from Izaya’s hair down his back and up again, both quiet and peaceful for once.

“When can I go outside?” Izaya says at last. “Not that it hasn’t been an… _eventful_ week, but I am starting to run out of things to do.”

“Didn’t Akabayashi get your computer from your apartment?”

“Crap. Knew I forgot _something.”_

“Useless.”

“I can get it myself,” Izaya says, pushing himself up, “if you two stop running interference.”

“Soon,” Shiki says. “You can go out soon.”

“When you can walk twenty meters without falling over,” Akabayashi says. “You know, when one of us standing in front of the door isn’t an actual deterrent.”

Izaya groans, rolling off the couch to land on the floor with a _thud._ “I meant to do that.”

❖

Honestly, it’s less surprising that Shiki is undead that it is that he’s _married._

Really. Shiki’s always been…pale would be a kind word, but not an accurate one. Chalky. Honestly, Izaya’s seen crime scene phots of corpses with more color.

 _“_ Akabayashi,” Shiki says, above the sounds of shuffling, “where’s my lighter?”

“What makes you think _I_ know?”

“Because you always swipe it when you can’t find yours.”

“We have a million of them,” Akabayashi says, “take one.”

Shiki must find one because Izaya can hear the front door open and close.

The silence is _profound._

“So…Shiki, huh?” Izaya says, knowing Akabayashi is listening. “Will admit, not something I saw coming. But what’s the point of living if nothing surprises you?”

“To protect what’s yours,” Akabayashi says, melting out of the shadows, tendrils clinging like they can’t bear to let him go. “To play. Curiosity. There are a hundred reasons.”

Akabayashi clicks open the shades on the window so that the moon can filter in. It seems so bright now, bright enough to fill the entire room with pale blue light. “To answer your question, yes, Shiki and I. For over two hundred years now.” Akabayashi clicks open the next shade. The light brightens and the noise of the city below starts to become more pronounced. “And one of the reasons Shiki and I have lasted that long—there are few secrets between us.”

“Admirable.”

“It’s also because we have lots of really kinky sex,” Akabayashi says. “A _lot._ He’s got the heart of a pervert under all that buttoned up persona. Are you up for it?”

“I’m sure I can manage.”

Akabayashi smirks. “I suppose we’ll see. Hey, wanna hear the story of how I met your mother? It was a long time ago, I was nothing but a young, strapping lad, Shiki the master of a large estate with a large fortune.—"

❖

Akabayashi’s an asshole.

“It’s cute to see you still try,” Akabayashi says, grinning as Shiki flexes his wrists. Akabayashi doesn’t even look like he’s trying, standing there with a smirk, dodging the knee Shiki throws at his crotch with no effort.

Akabayashi presses forward, until there’s no space between them. Until Akabayashi’s slight height advantage means he can loom above Shiki. Shiki tries one last time to wrench his hands free, but Akabayashi’s grip is iron and he’s long used to any trick Shiki might have.

“Your suit is so pretty, so white,” Akabayashi says into his ear. “It’d be a shame if it got _dirty.”_

“Don’t you dare.”

But it’s too late, he doesn’t feel the cut Akabayashi’s teeth make on his neck, but he does feel the slow trickle of blood towards his collar.

“Oops.”

Shiki _tries_ to strangle Akabayashi, he does, _really,_ but he’s still too strong and there’s a thigh between his and Akabayashi bites down in earnest and it’s so damn _good._

“Bastard,” Shiki breathes, “I’ll kill you.”

“Oh, yeah, talk dirty to me, baby,” Akabayashi purrs. “Tell me what you’ll do.”

“I’ll tie you down.”

“Ooh, is that all,” Akabayashi moves both of Shiki’s wrists into one hand, the other roaming free across Shiki’s chest and stomach. Shiki tries his luck again, only to be rewarded with a sharp pinch to the side.

“I’ll carve my name into your skin,” Shiki continues, as Akabayashi tears his shirt open, leaving him open to bites and licks and that sinful thing Akabayashi does with his tongue. “I’ll salt it so it stings.”

“Uninspired,” Akabayashi says. “What else?”

“I’ll remove one finger for every hour I need to spend getting the blood out.”

“Good,” Akabayashi’s hand travels into his pants, wrapping around him. “Good start, what else?”

“I’d never let you sleep,” Shiki says, “I’d brand my cigarettes into your skin.”

“Beautiful.”

It’s always over too fast.

Shiki’s knees are weak and he’s mostly relying on Akabayashi and the wall to keep him up, but at least he has his hands back to run through Akabayashi’s hair while Akabayashi tries to suck his soul out through his mouth.

“I love you,” Akabayashi keeps panting in between breathes. “You’re everything to me.”

And Shiki’s never been one to say what he can show, and he tries to reciprocate though his hands and Akabayashi seems to get the message, like he always does.

❖

Nobody told him about _this._

He’s never walking anywhere _again._

“You make me tired just watching you,” Shiki says from the ceiling, hanging upside down like a bat. One day, Izaya will figure out how to do that without plummeting to the ground.

“Maybe it’s your sleep schedule, ne?” Izaya says, moving from the kitchen to the living room. It’s not better than parkour, per se, it lacks the adrenaline.

But there’s something to be said from blinking in one place and opening your eyes in another.

“I’m sleeping plenty these days, thank you.”

From the TV to the couch. Wonder what the range is? The control?

Hm.

“Hello,” Izaya says, wrapping his legs around Shiki’s waist as their noses bump.

“Impressive,” Shiki smirks, wrapping his arms around Izaya’s waist to hold him up.

“I generally am, yes.”

The sound of the front door has them both snapping their heads to look. “Aww,” Akabayashi says, when he catches sight of them. “That’s adorable, wish I could take a picture. Hold on,” Akabayashi bustles off, coming back with a pencil and paper, “I’ll draw you for posterity.”

Izaya’s good, thanks, doesn’t need that. But Shiki clamps his arms tighter when he tries to wiggle away. “Where do you think you’re going? You’re mine now.”

Drats.

❖

“I think we get parental leave,” Akabayashi says.

“I don’t like those connotations.”

“Doesn’t change that it’s essentially what’s happening.”

“We’ve already been gone a day,” Shiki says, “we can’t _both_ be gone until Izaya is fit for public spaces, we’d be lucky if the building was still standing.”

“Remind me why we can’t take him out again?” Akabayashi sighs, adjusting his glasses with a lazy finger.

“He can’t walk consistently and doesn’t have control of his features yet.”

“That’s an easy enough fix,” Akabayashi says, “we carry him and have him hide his face.”

“He eats every two hours and manages to start a threesome every time.”

“ _So?”_

 _“_ We’re not having sex in our workplace.”

“Oh, really? That’s not what you said when—”

“I’m not talking about this anymore,” Shiki says, leaving the kitchen to visit Izaya in the living room, where he’s set up camp. It’s subtle, but if you really look, you can see the five books on vampires in Western folklore, three on Japanese mythology, a teetering stack of romance novels with titles like _His Engorging Blood,_ a notebook, and gel pens in every color known to man scattered around one of the armchairs.

Izaya is not in that armchair.

Izaya is on the couch. Because it’s not _home_ until you manage to occupy a room with the sheer presence of your shit.

Izaya’s reclining on the couch like a Victorian lady of means, swaddled in one of Akabayashi’s bathrobes for easy cleaning and access.

For _what_ depends on his mood.

“Hey, Izaya, would you consider Shiki your daddy?” Akabayashi says as he follows Shiki out of the kitchen.

“I said _drop it.”_

“It’s a sex thing now,” Akabayashi tells him cheerfully. “You can be a daddy and still raw someone stupid, keep with the _times,_ old man.”

“I suppose he is,” Izaya says thoughtfully, “though it’s not something I’ve really sought in life, you understand.”

“Liar,” Akabayashi says cheerfully.

“I’m nobody’s father,” Shiki says.

“No, you’re his daddy,” Akabayashi says gleefully, “a strong male role model with rules and guidelines for behavior.”

“And wealth, ne?” Izaya says.

“Of course, that’s a given.”

“What does that make _you?”_ Shiki says.

 _“_ Along for the ride.”

“Of course.”

Akabayashi just smiles.

“Now that we have our relationships cleared up,” Izaya says, “could someone explain to me _your_ relationship with sunlight.”

“It’s a one-side abusive one, it _hurts_ and gives back no love.”

“But you live through it, ne?”

“After a while,” Shiki says. “Not that it’s not damaging, but you live through it.”

“It’s about a minute for every year of continued existence,” Akabayashi says. “If that gives you an idea of how fucking _old_ Shiki is.”

Izaya looks intrigued, “How old is he, exactly?”

“Older than _balls._ ”

“Ah, helpful and precise, thank you.” Izaya rubs his heels against the couch, twisting his face ever so slightly.

“Something the matter, Izaya?” Shiki says. And that’s all Izaya needs.

“There are gaps in the mythology. From what I’ve read before, there are usually societies, _groups_ of vampires. It’s too dangerous for them, _us,_ alone, especially when a time of day can be so deadly, ne? There’s a network of humans, of elders, to protect the community.” Izaya stands, trying to pace. He stumbles, catching himself on the couch, but pushing himself up and continuing to pace, “it’s obvious, from the way you’re caring for me, that new vampires are weak and need to be cared for, so where are they, hm?”

“You’re looking at it,” Akabayashi says, slinging an arm around Shiki’s shoulders, “plus or minus maybe, what, ten?”

Izaya frowns. “That makes no _sense.”_

“Doesn’t? It’s a long-standing tradition to burn the dead here, never really had a chance to take root,” Shiki says.

“Not that those European bastards don’t try,” Akabayashi says cheerfully. “But don’t worry, I won’t let them take root here,” Akabayashi smiles, and his fangs slip down and Shiki doesn’t need to see to know that his irises are as black as midnight and his eyes red as blood.

“Put that away,” Shiki admonishes lightly, “excuse him, he’s still holding grudges for a few things.”

But Izaya looks intrigued rather than terrified and stumbles over, pushing up Akabayashi’s lips with one finger and pulling down his eyelids with another while the other hand is dedicated solely to keeping his balance. “How’d you do that?”

“More like, how do you put it away,” Shiki corrects gently. “You can’t see it, but it’s your more _natural_ face. We hide it to fit in.”

Izaya moves hands to his own face, probing gently. “Really? Why is that?”

“Hide it? Wouldn’t be able to—”

“No, no. Why does it change? What’s the advantage, ne?”

“Looks cool as _hell,_ ” Akabayashi says, “never fails to get my dick harder than—”

“Night vision,” Shiki cuts in, “it’s easier to see in the dark. The fangs, for obvious reasons. You’ll gain control of it as you settle more into your form.” Shiki thinks. Hopes. He’s never really taken care of a Newborn like this. Maybe he’s fucking Izaya up for the rest of his eternal life.

Maybe there is something to the whole ‘daddy’ thing.

Izaya groans, “this is taking _forever._ It’s _boring.”_

 _“_ Patience,” Shiki says, stroking Izaya’s hair, as Izaya switches targets to burrow into Shiki’s chest. “You have all the time in the world. And Akabayashi was _just_ offering to carry you wherever your heart desires.”

“Hey now—"

Izaya makes a small, frustrated noise as his legs give out from under him again.

“Is baby hungry?” Akabayashi coos, scooping Izaya up to cradle him in his arms, pulling open his shirt to reveal his chest, “aww, hate to— _oof._ ”

Akabayashi blinks up at Shiki, “to be completely honest, I didn’t expect him to actually do it.”

“More fool you,” Shiki says, “I’m going to the office, have fun you two.”

Izaya waves from where he’s latched himself to Akabayashi’s chest.

“Hey, ‘Zaya you ever tried suspended congress?”

Izaya looks up at Akabayashi curiously.

Right after this.

❖

“Not that I don’t enjoy our time together,” Izaya says, flipping through one of the books Shiki was kind enough to bring home, “but I’m a bit old to be babysat, ne?

“Not that I’m not thrilled to pieces to be in your company all damn day,” Akabayashi says, flipping through some tabloid he picked up, “but I agree. But you do need to be fed around every two hours for the first two months. And Shiki’s gotta do some business things.”

“For the family you’re in? Must be awfully tolerant of your…hours.”

“Of course they are,” Akabayashi says, flipping a page, “Shiki’s in charge.”

But Izaya’s _met_ Mikiya, seen him stomping around huffing and puffing and heard reports about how the stress of trying and failing to run a yakuza family is ruining his life and making it so he can’t get hard, or whatever. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Akabayashi says, “Shiki’s good at it, isn’t? Really looks like that Mikiya fuck’s supposed to be calling the shots.”

“Ah, I see.”

“You don’t,” Akabayashi says, “it’s a freak show carefully hidden in the underworld. The largest collection of the inhuman in Tokyo.” Akabayashi tosses his magazine to the side. “And Shiki runs it with a tight fist.”

“Impressive.”

“He’s amazing,” Akabayashi says, “it’s why he’s got us as his harem.”

“I thought it was his wallet?”

“And his massive dick. What a catch.”

❖

Izaya finds his new powers _fascinating._

_Everyday._

He’s in the corner, by the TV, by the bookcase, by the couch, moving with such speed as to be nearly teleporting.

It’s _exhausting._

“How are you doing that?” Izaya says from near the kitchen.

“Doing what?”

“From the ceiling,” Izaya says from across the room.

“With great dexterity.”

In the next second, there’s a _thud_ as Izaya hits the ground.

“We can’t keep him here any longer,” Shiki tells Akabayashi, the next time he saunters through the door, a fraction of a second before the sun rises.

“No shit,” Akabayashi says, looking around the once neat living room. “What, did you want to wait until he _actually_ tore the couch into shreds?”

So, they take him to work. Against all sorts of Shiki’s better judgement.

“Oh, no,” Aozaki groans as soon as they walk in the room, “there’s _another_ one.”

“Hell _yeah_ there is. Another lover. You know, someone who I have sex with, someone that isn’t utterly repulsed by me and the world’s most violent case of PMS.”

“Everyone is disgusted with you,” Aozaki sneers. “Some just fuck you anyway.”

“Izaya,” Akabayashi says cheerfully, “this is the company dog, Aozaki, I’m sure you’ve met before.”

Aozaki looks at Izaya mournfully, gripping his shoulders. “If Akabayashi did this to you—”

“ _Hey_ —”

“Tell me, and I’ll rip him limb from limb.”

Akabayashi titters, spreading arms wide, “be my guest, see how long it _lasts._ ”

“I fucking _will,_ you overgrown leech!”

“So vampires and werewolves rivalry is an actually thing, ne?” Izaya says to Shiki, “I thought it was all a media contrivance.”

“It is,” Shiki says. “Akabayashi’s just a stain on the face of the planet.”

“Thanks, babe,” Akabayashi says, slinging an arm around Shiki’s shoulders, landing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Sorta is a thing,” Aozaki says, “not a lotta vamps, could say that we’ve got a problem with a third of the population.”

“Not a lotta werewolves either,” Akabayashi says, “probably cause none of you mangy mutts can get laid—”

Aozaki bares his teeth and growls, starting low in his throat.

“Knock it off,” Shiki says. “Do you not have enough work to do? Do I need to give you _more?_ ”

“I got plenty,” Aozaki says, “it’s Akabayashi that likes to sit on his ass instead of—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Akabayashi says, “maybe you should hunt down the organization picking us off one by one. Isn’t that what _dogs_ are for?”

“Why isn’t he?” Izaya says, hopping up on one of the desks. “Aren’t werewolves supposed to be stronger than humans? Shouldn’t it be no match? Doesn’t seem quite like the best allocation of resources, ne?”

“Akabayashi’s a special case—” Shiki starts, but Aozaki cuts him off.

“Yeah, seems rather stupid, don’t it?”

“There’s—”

“If he wants to go out,” Akabayashi says, “why stop him? The sort of gung-ho attitude we want to see in our employees. Gotta foster that, you know. Corporate morale.”

Akabayashi’s smirking like the devil himself, smile full of malice and ill-intent. Either he’s got something up his sleeve, or he knows something Shiki doesn’t. Either way.

“Fine,” Shiki says. “Do what you want. Getting torn apart is your problem. Akabayashi, brief him, won’t you?”

Shiki retreats into his office before the headache can fully bloom, Izaya trailing behind. “Nice place you got,” Izaya says, stretching out on the couch. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you run this outfit.”

Shiki hums noncommittally.

“Does this mean I have to report to you now, hm? Share all I know? Could be bad for business.”

“No,” Shiki says, “but anything you deem important would be appreciated, and I can’t speak for what Akabayashi might do if you get in the way of what he wants.”

Izaya doesn’t look too frightened. Give him a couple hundred years, he’ll figure it out.

Maybe.

“And what would you do, hmm? If I don’t give you what you want?” Izaya peers at him lazily from under a half-closed eye.

“I suppose it depends what you do.” Shiki walks over to the couch, perching on the edge. “I’m sure I can survive without your information.” Izaya preens when Shiki runs a fingertip down his cheek. “But try screw me over and you’ll be punished.”

“Oh? And what passes for punishment these days?”

“Suppose I have to resort to good old fashioned spanking.”

“Kinky.”

“It’s a shame the ropes won’t hold you now,” Shiki says, because it really is. He’d be gorgeous. The downsides of taking an immortal lover.

“I’ll be good,” Izaya says, sly as anything.

“You’re never good, don’t lie to me. But it’s not the _same.”_

“Oh?”

“It’s something different to know you can’t escape, that you’re bound and at the other’s mercy,” Shiki says, catching Izaya’s wrists, “isn’t it.”

Izaya tugs at his wrists, licking his lips when he finds they won’t budge. “I don’t suppose,” Izaya says, having to pause to lick his lips, “that thing you wouldn’t do before is on the table now, ne?”

“It might be. If you’re good.”

“I’m always good, ne? A perfect angel, really. Ask anyone.”

He’ll believe it when he sees it.

❖

Living with ages old vampires running a yakuza family to stave off boredom isn’t quite what Izaya expected, but he can roll with it.

“I’ve updated the chore wheel,” Shiki says, pinning a colored paper monstrosity to the wall. Izaya chances a look at Akabayashi, but all he does is smirk back.

Okay then.

“Izaya, you have dishes and vacuuming this week,” Shiki says. “Akabayashi, you have dusting and bloodstains.”

“I wasn’t aware that you had dishes, let alone _used_ them.”

Akabayashi stands and opens a cupboard with a flourish. “See these glasses here? They’re Shiki’s prized possession, his children. We take them out once a week and give them a bath, it satisfies his neuroticism.”

“Sometimes we even use them to drink liquids, like booze and water instead of slurping straight out of the sink like a dog.”

“If booze wasn’t meant to be drank straight from the bottle, why they make the openings single-serve size?”

“You’re a heathen.”

“Loud and proud.”

“And what do you do, Shiki?”

“Shiki’s on eternal laundry duty,” Akabayashi says. “Clothes so clean they’re eligible for heaven. Sheets so crisp they crackle like paper. Underwear blindingly white.”

“Ah, fighting the good fight.”

“Mock all you want,” Shiki says. “Maybe I’ll let you sleep in the massive pools of lube you leave on the sheets.”

“Shiki, you are a treasure and I appreciate you so much, have I told you?”

“Get off your knees, your filth is getting on my nice, clean floor.”

❖

Izaya’s back to conducting business, tapping away at a laptop, sending off texts with lightning speed.

Doesn’t mean he’s operating _well_.

“Izaya, come to bed, it’s daylight already.”

Izaya waves him off, “in a minute, yeah?”

Izaya doesn’t come to bed that night.

He’s not clambering at the walls anymore, but it’s not _better._ It’s worse.

“Izaya, are you hungry?”

Izaya waves him off with a distracted hand.

He’s retreated into himself. Shiki lets it go for three days before he finds his opening.

“Izaya,” Shiki says, running hands down his back. “Come into the bedroom.”

“Later.”

“Now.”

Izaya’s hands freeze over his keyboard. “And if I don’t?”

The lilt is playful. Good.

“I could drag you in. Or you can walk.”

“Ooh, scary,” Izaya says, but he stands and follows Shiki in to the bedroom.

“Strip,” Shiki says, pulling the belt from his pants.

“Ooh, so you noticed,” Izaya says, lifting his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

“Did you think I wouldn’t? Do you think it’s cute to send me to business meetings with associates with their pockets full of garlic?”

As a matter of fact, it’s not harmful as much as it’s headache inducing. But it’s a headache Shiki could have avoided.

“Akabayashi said it was only annoying,” Izaya says, stepping out of his pants. “And it really spiced things up, ne?”

“Brace your hands.”

Izaya does as he’s told, for once, putting his bare back on display. Shiki can’t help but skate his hand down smooth, pale skin. Unblemished. There’s no chance of scarring, now. Not that there’s no risks anymore, but they’re fewer. A slight miscalculation of strength won’t harm Izaya like it would when he was human.

Still.

“We’ll start with three.”

“Seems rather low, ne?”

“We’ll start with three,” Shiki repeats. “Remember, the safe word is—”

“Salad, yes, I _know—”_

The first lash has Izaya gasping, the red line on his ass stark for a moment, before it begins to fade.

“One.”

The second has Izaya’s hands tightening on the wood of the foot board making it creak and groan.

“Two.”

The third has Izaya breathing heavily, head hanging.

“Three.”

“That’s all you’ve got?” Izaya says, breathy.

“I suppose not. Five more, shall we?”

Izaya’s arms are shaking by the time he’s done, ten small groves in the wood left by thin fingers.

“You did well, ‘Zaya,” Shiki says, wrapping Izaya into his arms. “I think something nice is in order.”

“Like what?”

Shiki drops to his knees, and Izaya laughs. “You’ve got an oral fixation, you know. You know what Freud would say about you.”

“No,” Shiki lies.

“He’d say—” Izaya cuts off mid-groan. Because Shiki did not spend two hundred years married to be _bad_ at giving head.

Izaya tries to lean back against the foot board, snaps back to standing. Buries his hands in Shiki’s hair. Moans and groans and pants and his cheeks are ever-so-slightly pink and he looks tasseled.

Gorgeous.

Equally as gorgeous when he’s spread out on the sheets on his stomach, back to his favorite pass time of tracing Shiki’s tattoo as Shiki slowly scratches his back, his hair.

“Freud would have said you have problems with dependency and aggression,” Izaya says. “He’s probably wrong, but he really set a precedent in the field.”

“Oh?” Shiki says, switching to scratching at Izaya’s scalp the way he likes.

“Hm,” Izaya says, closing his eyes. When he opens them, they’re not blank and distant. Izaya’s fully present in the moment, inhabiting his body for the first time in three days. “In the idea that humans develop over a series of stages.”

Shiki listens to Izaya, nodding and humming, until Izaya curls into his chest in a well-deserved nap.

❖

“I’m taking Izaya out tonight to hunt,” Akabayashi says, slipping on a black jacket. “I intend to be back late.”

“He won’t be able to do it,” Shiki tells him. “I’ve, ah, booked a room in a hotel for tomorrow. You are, as always, welcome to join.”

“I’ll pass thanks, not a fan of eating things people have fucked.”

“Don’t pretend for a second it’s not about the thrill of getting someone unawares.”

“You know me so well,” Akabayashi says fondly, “and you’re still here.”

“More fool me.”

“You must be more fucked up than I am.”

“Doubtful.”

“And yet,” Akabayashi nuzzles into his neck like the overgrown dog he is, “possible.”

Shiki pushes him away with a hand, “go take Izaya out to murder some innocent civilians already.”

Akabayashi mostly goes, but lets Shiki’s hand squish his nose into a pig snout. “An interesting moral question,” he says, voice high and whining. “But not one I really care about. And one you don’t either.”

“I’ve made my peace.”

“Wonder how many morals we have left between us. How many you think Izaya has?”

“Enough.”

“Guess we’ll find out. Izaya~” Akabayashi calls, swinging his cane like it’s a baton, “wanna go get some food?”

It’s peaceful in the apartment without anyone else in it.

Almost too quiet.

There’s a niggling sense that he should go check and see what Izaya’s playing with before something goes horribly wrong.

Which is ridiculous. He’s been alone before, for stretches far longer than a few hours. For days. For months before he met Akabayashi.

It’s almost a relief when the door slams open and Izaya stalks into the room, shoulders stiff and lips pressed tight, just as pale as when he left. A door further down slams shut, and Shiki would bet just about anything it’s the study.

Akabayashi follows, hand gripping the front door right before it slams shut. He walks sedately into the room, but Shiki’s known him for lifetimes.

He’s not angry, at least.

Akabayashi’s anger is cold and silent like snow at midnight, something that will kill you eventually through exposure alone.

Shiki cocks an eyebrow, “go well?”

“Splendidly,” Akabayashi says, throwing himself on to the other end of the couch. “Couldn’t have gone better.”

“Did he manage to bite?”

“Not even,” Akabayashi fishes a cigarette out of his pocket. “Lured them into the alley no issue, I’d say he’s gotten a bit of your Thrall. Couldn’t do it, let them go.” Akabayashi takes a long drag, letting it out in a thick stream. “So we tried again. Differently. Prey already separated, all he had to do was swoop down and eat. Couldn’t have been easier.”

“He’s not built like that.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“You look well fed, though.” Because he does. His skin is rosy, his eyes something like brown.

“Sure am. Kid couldn’t do it himself, but had no problem watching.”

“I expected nothing less.”

“Not sure he’s gonna love the whores either, though.”

“Doesn’t have to love it, just has to do it.”

Akabayashi hums. “Not sure he does. He’ll find some way around it.”

“There’s no way around blood, you know that.”

“No, not that,” Akabayashi says, waving a hand like he can bat away Shiki’s concerns. “Don’t think he’ll like the intimacy of it.”

“It’s not—”

“It is. Something _primal_. Sometimes I’m not sure it’s just the blood we’re taking when we drink.”

“What else would it be?”

“Dunno,” Akabayashi says. “But you ever find it odd that we can’t drink from dead humans, but can from each other? I mean, we’re dead too.”

“Can’t say it’s plagued me.”

“Sometimes, I want answers,” Akabayashi admits, “but not enough to go fucking _ask.”_

“Could stop killing every other vampire you come across.”

“I don’t,” Akabayashi says, poking Shiki’s thigh with his toes. “You know that.”

“Sure.”

“Come on,” Akabayashi says, spinning so he can lay his head on Shiki’s thigh, “I _don’t._ Just the ones that attack you first.”

Shiki runs a hand through Akabayashi’s hair, and it’s as soft and tangle-free as it always is. “Good dog.”

A hand reaches up to swat him lightly, but Akabayashi doesn’t protest otherwise.

❖

It’s not that Shiki’s way of hunting is more _refined,_ it’s just, well. More refined.

 “So,” Izaya says, rocking back and forth on his feet, “prostitutes, huh?”

“Hm,” Shiki confirms.

“Odd that this sort of thing never came up on my radar,” Izaya says, “there’s very little that doesn’t.”

“It’s in their best interest to keep it quiet.”

“Oooh, fear of death, ne? Never keeps thing as quiet as you think they should.”

“Hardly,” Shiki says, “they’re far more useful alive.”

“Then what? Are you that fantastic of a lay, hmm?”

“Partly,” Shiki says, because when you are, _you are_. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“And what’s the other part?”

“Maybe a touch of Compulsion.”

“Of what—”

Shiki swipes into the room, and the smell hits him like a wall, all pheromones and the smell of rot in dark places and _life_. Izaya staggers slightly before righting himself, but there’s barely time to adjust before they’re on them.

“Shi- _chan,_ ” one says, latching onto his arm, “it’s so good to see you. And you’ve brought a friend.”

He’s aware of how it looks. They’re expensive escorts, but that just means the lingerie on show is high-quality. That there’s less chance of drugs in their systems. “I hope you don’t mind,” Shiki says, like he’s not paying for it.

“Oh, there’s no issue,” one of the others says, “not if he’s as good as you.”

Izaya’s face is unreadable. His body is relaxed, but his hands are in the pockets of his coat.

Shit.

Well, he’ll do or it he won’t. It’s not something that Shiki wants to force him into.

“Then let’s begin.”

The first bite is indescribable, always.

Something warm and rich and full, tempered by the ever-present rot that will eventually claim them. And that’s just the _taste_ , to say nothing of the tidal wave of energy that flows through him. It’s like he’s been sparked with a live-wire, every nerve coming alive in one burst.

And that’s just the first, it’s an endless array of soft, warm skin, of sliding, caressing touches. One girl blends into another, one panting beneath him, breathing words of encouragement, another stroking his chest and it’s as excellent and profound as it always is.

It’s a haze that he surfaces from later, surrounded by naked bodies breathing deeply and evenly.

There’s something in the corner. Shiki snaps his head to the side, but it’s just Izaya, sitting still as stone in a chair in the corner. Shiki can tell that he’s eaten, but only because there’s some color in his cheeks and in the spidery pale of his fingers.

“Not for you?” Shiki says, pulling on his pants.

Izaya smiles thinly. “No, not really.” Izaya glances out the window. “Akabayashi stopped by earlier,” he says as Shiki hunts for his shirt. “Hung around outside the window, don’t know how he did it.”

“Don’t let him know you saw him,” Shiki says, slotting buttons into one another. “He still thinks he’s being sneaky.”

Izaya blinks. “Ah, I see.”

“He’s very protective,” Shiki says, grabbing his jacket. “I’m sure you’ll see him in some surprising places, eventually.”

“That’s a bit disconcerting, ne?”

Shiki shrugs, waiting for the elevator. “I don’t think so, there’s been more than once having him checkup has saved my life, he’s rightfully paranoid. But I’m sure he’ll try and restrain himself if you ask.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“Maybe threaten, a little,” Shiki amends.

Akabayashi joins them at the door the hotel, acting for all the world like it’s completely natural. “Enjoy your cookies with benefits?” he says around a cigarette.

“Of course,” Shiki says.

“Oh, ‘Zaya, looking a little _blue,”_ Akabayashi croons. ”Shiki not give you enough attention?” Akabayashi pulls Izaya roughly to his side, “don’t worry, I’d be _happy_ to—”

“We’re in _public_ ,” Shiki says, with the sudden premonition that this will be far from the last time.

❖

Apparently it’s not enough to simply agree to marry two of the undead, they want you to follow through too.

“Akabayashi wants to do a ritual,” Shiki says one night as Izaya sprawls over his chest. He’s more pliant these days, but doubly so immediately after sex.

Which is often.

Might be a connection.

“Eh, what sort?” Izaya says lazily, tracing patterns over his tattoos.

“A marriage one, of sorts.”

Izaya quirks an eyebrow up. “What, is becoming a dark creature of the night not enough anymore?”

“Not at all, as it is. He says it’s a traditional vampire thing, something the Europeans do.”

“Oh?”

“Or could just as well just be some sort of sick ritual for his own enjoyment and peace of mind.” Shiki reaches for his carton of cigarettes on the coffee table, stretching. But now’s the opportunity Izaya’s been waiting for. It’s like using a weak muscle, something that aches when you pull it, something unwieldy, but he’s been practicing and the cigarettes wobble their way unsteadily to outstretched fingers.

Shiki cards his fingers through Izaya’s hair, “when’d you learn to do that?” His voice is warm and almost proud.

“A couple days ago. Pretty neat, ne? Soon I’ll be able to have a swarm of knives to protect me from the salacious desires of old men.”

“Impressive,” Shiki says. “How about a lighter?”

“Mhm, too far.”

“Then use your legs, perhaps?”

“Why can’t you?” but Izaya climbs off and saunters into the kitchen and Shiki can hear the—is that the fridge being opened?

Izaya comes back with a blood bag in one hand, sucking it down, tossing the lighter in Shiki’s general direction.

“Well, shit,” Akabayashi says, from the loveseat, “wasn’t expecting that one.”

“Something the matter?” Izaya says, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Not at all,” Shiki says, “rather clever of you. Get it through one of your contacts?”

“Several of them, actually,” Izaya says lazily, “can’t have them getting suspicious now.”

Izaya goes to curl into Akabayashi’s lap to read his magazine with him, Akabayashi adjusting his arm to accommodate.

“Why do you call each other by last names?” Izaya says, eventually. “It says right here that it’s a sign he’s not into you.”

“It’s because I’m not into him.”

“Shiki’s a tsundere, any sign you’re too close scares him off.”

“Cute,” Izaya says, folding his legs to tangle with Akabayashi’s. “But what’s the real reason, hmm?”

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Shiki says, at the same time Akabayashi says, “habit.”

Izaya raises an eyebrow, “oh?”

“Sleeping with men is, ah, something that’s gone in and out of style,” Akabayashi says. “People are only willing to look the other way on so many things, can’t have _two_ degenerate traits.”

“Go a week without bloodstains in your clothes and we’ll see.”

“So _cruel,”_ Akabayashi whines, giving up his magazine in favor of stroking Izaya’s back with long strokes like a cat. “Izaya, you’ll call me Mizuki, won’t you?”

“I think he’ll do _anything_ you want if you keep that up.”

“Not anything,” Izaya protests, “wouldn’t—

Akabayashi drags his nails lightly up Izaya’s back, “Mizuki, was it?”

❖

Shinjuku bustles like it always has, people to-ing and fro-ing and partying even in the middle of the week, a great clash of colors and sounds and voices. It’s relaxing in its consistency.

Mostly.

It’s never smelled _great,_ always too many stalls and perfumes and gasoline, but now it smells _overwhelming._

Akabayashi blows out a puff of smoke.

“It gets better.”

“Hmm?”

“The smell, the noise, the sights,” Akabayashi clarifies. “You learn to tune out the unimportant.”

“Are you sure it’s not just your cigarette cloud dulling your senses?”

“No,” Akabayashi says. “I think I prefer it that way. Makes it seem like it’s intentional. Maybe you should take it up.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll pass. What purpose do you serve if I’m the household smoke machine, ne?”

Akabayashi snickers, “ooh, catty. I’m the biggest dick, I have a very important role.”

“Nothing that can’t be replaced, ne?”

“True,” Akabayashi allows, “don’t tell Shiki, he might decide to get rid of me.”

❖

Akabayashiwants to put Izaya on a leash.

“Don’t be stupid,” Shiki says, “he’s strong enough to break most things we can put him in.”

“Ah, yes. I’m sure that’s the main reason you shouldn’t put a grown man on a leash, ne?”

“You’re not a grown man,” Akabayashi says, “you’re a Newborn and we’re about to take you out into the middle of a candy store and tell you to not touch anything.”

“I’m sure I can control myself.”

And amazingly, Izaya can. Shiki had visions of holding Izaya back on by his collar as he snarled and clawed to get at all and any pedestrians in their path.

But instead, Izaya prances along like he hasn’t a care in the world. The only indication that he’s different are his momentary fixations on the tiniest of details, on his maybe too intent stare at some. A little paler than he used to be.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this closely watched,” Izaya says, swinging around a telephone pole. “Not even when I was young. What an interesting feeling, not being trusted to walk in a straight line and not murder somebody. Like Hannibal Lector.”

“That’s not it,” Akabayashi says, swinging his cane. “Murder’s fine. I’ll even give you pointers, if you’d like.”

“It’s not really _you_ we’re watching,” Shiki says.

“Well, it is a little bit,” Akabayashi says. “Don’t think nobody saw you trip over your own foot. Because _I_ saw.”

“Then who are you watching for, ne? Piss off some higher power, hmm?”

“Shiki _is_ an abomination before god.”

Shiki ignores him. “Not a higher power. Just a particularly bloodthirsty one.”

“Vampire hunter, huh? It’s like the movies come to life. What’s next, a clan-based power system? Slave-like vampire hopefuls? Orgies of the undead?”

“Nah, that’s a European thing,” Akabayashi says.

“Not vampire hunters, more _general_ hunters. Anything not human.”

“Eh, a little more specific,” Akabayashi says, “not human _and_ can’t defend itself adequately.”

“I can _absolutely_ defend myself,” Shiki snaps.

“‘Course, babe,” Akabayashi says lazily. “But let me finish them off, ‘kay?”

Izaya’s head is whipping between them like it’s a particularly exciting tennis match, a smirk blooming on his face.

“Not a _word,”_ Shiki tells him.

But Izaya has never listened to him and he’s not going to start _now._ “You do look a little, shall we say, delicate.”

“He is a bit fragile,” Akabayashi stage whispers, “he had his arm ripped off once, it took eleven years to grow back. _Eleven years_ , can you believe it?”

“Wow,” Izaya says, “so _slow.”_

“I know,” Akabayashi says, “and one time, he drank from someone with just a little too much booze in his system, stumbled around like a blind lemur all evening. He was _adorable._ And meaner than a bulldog. Which was _also adorable,”_ Akabayashi adds hastily, flashing Shiki a quick smile.

Shiki’s pocket rings, a flash of three beeps against his thigh.

“Shiki,” he snaps into the phone.

“ _It’s Aozaki,”_ Kazamoto’s lazy, sibilant hiss tells him, “ _he’s been attacked.”_

❖

“I feel underdressed,” Izaya says.

“We’re all naked,” Shiki points out.

“But I’m _blank.”_

 _“_ He has a good point,” Akabayashi says, “he does look a little naked in comparison to us.”

“Do you _want_ tattoos?" Shiki can get Izaya tattoos.

He thinks.

Probably.

No, his artist is definitely dead. Oh, well. There’s others. He’d look good with tattoos.

“Not particularly."

Shame.

“And now we begin the ritual,” Akabayashi says, “from which we cannot return.”

“That’s not what you said the _first_ time.”

“That was two-hundred years ago. It must work if we’re still together. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you feel that our souls are intertwined? That we’re _one?”_

No. But if Akabayashi feels it, he believes him.

“Does that mean we’ll all have some sort of super sense? That we’ll know where each other is at all times?"

"Not that I've experienced," Shiki says. "Just means you're saddled with this asshole for the rest of eternity.”

“You always say the kindest, sweetest things," Akabayashi says. "Now let's get this show on the road." Akabayashi pulls out a knife, setting it between them.

Oh. Shiki kind of forgot about that part.

Akabayashi clears his throat, “Shadows hear my words, we’ve gathered here to pledge ourselves to each other for all eternity.”

It’s just suggestion that makes the shadows look darker. That’s what Shiki thought the first time.

He’s not so sure now. Now he feels like the shadows sat up from the corners of the room to lean in and listen.

“With this,” Akabayashi continues, “with his blood sacrifice, we bind to each other.”

“Kinky,” Izaya says.

“In a spiritually kinky way,” Akabayashi amends. And with that, Akabayashi slams his hand down on the top of the blade. “Now you.”

“Generally it’s _polite_ to let someone know when an esoteric ritual might contain impalement, ne?” Izaya says.

“Sorry,” Shiki says, slamming his hand down on top of Akabayashi’s, “I forgot.”

Akabayashi turns to glance at him out of the corner of his eye, “you _forgot?”_

“I was distracted by the wild amounts of kinky sex we had immediately after.”

“I’ll accept that. Izaya, quit stalling you’re holding up the kinky sex.”

Izaya heaves in a sigh, but lifts up his hand. “Why the hand? Is it symbolically important?”

“’S so you can’t rub your own pickle, gotta have us do it.”

Izaya sighs, but slams his hand down any way. Interesting move after Akabayashi said that.

“Shadows, see us,” Akabayashi calls. “We have spilled blood with intent, let us be apart but never parted, hunting in the darkness together forever.”

“Poetic.”

“Not something I came up with,” Akabayashi says, pulling the knife out of their hands with one quick tug. “Now, onto the kinky sex.”

It’s all told, not terribly kinky this time around.

Izaya moans and claws at his shoulders, chest warm against his, while Akabayashi’s breathe fans against his neck, hands stroking his sides.

It’s too much. Too much all at once, too much in general. Akabayashi’s kissing Izaya senseless somewhere over Shiki’s left shoulder, groans reverberating through the both of them.

It’s too much.

Far too much.

“Izaya, let me—”

“Yes,” Izaya says, face in Shiki’s neck. “ _Yes.”_

It’s too much and it’s all consuming, and it leaves him boneless and tired, but it’s hardly the end of anything. It can’t be. Izaya’s squirming under him, hips shifting and sliding.

It’s really only polite to shift Izaya up so he can take him into his mouth, even lets Izaya grab tight fistfuls of hair and tug as he will.

“Very nice,” Akabayashi says, “Shiki, put his leg over your shoulder.”

Bossy. But Shiki does, fairly easy, Izaya being the bendy bastard he is.

“Tilt your head, I want to _see.”_ There’s another hand in his hair, wrenching his neck to the side, pushing him further into the cradle of Izaya’s hips.

Shiki casts back the nastiest stink eye he can muster, but Mizuki’s grin is far from apologetic and closer to sinful _,_ something like a smile Lucifer would have made seconds before starting a rebellion.

Izaya’s practically _writhing_ under his hands and lips, more sinuous and graceful than ever before, arching as soon as Haruya pulls off, staring blankly at the ceiling. Mizuki makes a noise and grips Haruya’s hip desperately. “If you’d like.”

Mizuki collapses onto the bed. “I’m pretty sure we lasted longer the first time.”

“The effects of age are relentless, ne?” Izaya says as he worms his way between them, all sharp elbows and bony limbs.

 

❖

There’s no doubt his hand is healing, it’s just _so slow._ His fingers are stiff and don’t bend quite right and it’smaddening to feel the itch of knitting tendons and skin.

“Next page,” Izaya says, and Shiki dutifully reaches to flip it. Something glimmers and Izaya catches Shiki’s hand.

There, at the base of his ring finger, is a plain gold band.

“My husband asked me to wear it,” Shiki says as Izaya twists it around a pale finger.

“Did he now?”

“A while ago, yes. What’s your book about?”

“How to kill vampires.”

“Oh? Interesting choice of topic.”

“Akabayashi keeps breaking my knives.”

“Understandable, I recommend going for his other eye.”

❖

“Careful.”

Shiki does manage to catch Izaya before he goes toppling over the edge of the building, but only just.

“I was fine,” Izaya protests, snuggling deeper into Shiki’s arms. “I have a bit more grace than that, ne?”

Shiki rather doubts that, but he doesn’t push it. “A little further, we’re almost there.”

“Can’t you tell me where we’re going now, hmm?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Shiki gently disentangles himself and jumps to the next rooftop, and the next. Izaya’s decently good at it, has far more control of his speed and powers than Shiki did at his age.

The keys to the museum are right where the night guard said they would be.

“I know museum are more fun for you with people,” Shiki says, pushing the door open, “but I think the exhibit is worth seeing anyway.”

“A museum date?” Izaya says, “Almost traditional of you, ne? Who would have thought.”

“It’s just the one exhibit.”

“Oh is it now? And what’s so exciting?”

Poisons.

Exhibits on the intrigue and mystery and science of poisons.

Izaya's gobsmacked for all of five seconds.

“Shiki, they got this one wrong,” Izaya says with glee. “This is actually the _second_ recorded instance of belladonna use.”

“Oh?”

Izaya’s eyes are lit from within as he systematically tears apart the work of countless experts.

Gorgeous. 

❖

The sun isn’t quite down yet, but Izaya’s already up and prowling around the flat, sucking down his fourth bag of blood like it’s a bite-sized morsel instead of eighth the total amount of blood in a human body.

“If I didn’t know that you always ate like this, I’d be worried.”

“Like what?” Izaya says, rummaging in the fridge and coming up with his fifth bag. Apparently it’s a good thing they never bothered to unplug the fridge, there aren’t enough humans in Tokyo to keep up with Izaya’s dietary habits.

“Like every meal could be your last.”

Izaya looks vaguely alarmed, but it quickly morphs into a horrified curiosity, “why? Is it going to my hips? Can vampires gain weight? How would that _work_?”

“You look fine,” Shiki says instead of answering. He suspects it’s not an answer Izaya would want to hear.

Izaya seems mollified, sucking down the rest of the bag, but not reaching for a sixth. “Where’s Akabayashi? I can’t feel him nearby. Did you lose him?”

“Out hunting whoever it was that attacked Aozaki the other night, he’s got a good chance of it now. Werewolf blood reeks to high heaven and peaks during the full moon.” But Shiki looks up from the newspaper. “How’d you know he wasn’t here?”

Izaya shrugs a shoulder, “didn’t feel like he was. Do you know where he might be?”

Ah, the question Shiki has been patently ignoring. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“I didn’t ask if he was fine, I asked where he was, ne?”

“I don’t _know_ where he is, Izaya,” Shiki says as evenly as he can.

“I see,” Izaya says. “You can’t feel it.”

“Feel what?”

“He’s fine,” Izaya says. “He’s alive at least.”

“What makes you say that?”

Izaya frowns, putting a hand over his chest. “Not entirely sure, I chalked it up to the weird voodoo ritual. Besides, can’t he recover from being torn to pieces?”

“Akabayashi’s only about two-hundred, give or take, and the sun goes down in half an hour,” Shiki tells him, lighting a cigarette, watching the pieces click into place.

“A bit young for you, yeah? A bit of cradle robbing.”

Shiki takes a long drag, letting his exhale and expression speak nice and loud. “What does that make you? A zygote?”

“Not even, I think.”

Before Shiki can follow that up, there’s a loud bang as the front door slams against the wall and the apartment floods with the sickly sweet scent of flesh slowly decaying.

Humans have broken into the flat.

There’s one barreling down the hallway, silver stake in his hand, another barely through the door.

Idiots. They never stood a chance.

Time slows to liquid molasses as Shiki moves. The closest one he grabs by the ears, relishing the feel of the neck tensing and ripping, as the thick, hardened calcium of the spine gives way with a _crack,_ the headless body crumpling to the floor.

Then, he closes the door and returns to his seat and lets the second one come to him.

“Stop,” Shiki says, and the hunter stops. His willpower crumples like tissue paper in the palm of Shiki’s hand, resistance so weak Shiki’s not entirely sure it was there in the first place. He’s young, maybe mid-twenties, not particularly fit. Not like the one minus a head.

“I know him,” Izaya says, walking over to sit on Shiki’s lap. “He contacted me yesterday about looking into you, apparently he found some other informant to give him half-baked information, shame.”

“Interesting,” Shiki says. “Where did you get your information?”

“Jin Kim,” the Hunter says easily, and Izaya grumbles, pulling out a phone to tap at it.

“What were your goals?”

“To exterminate the vampires in their nest while the guard was out.”

Interesting.

“And what of the guard?”

“Different unit was taking care of him, he should be exterminated by now.”

“I see,” Shiki says. :Jump out the window.”

And the Hunter does, not even showing a hint of hesitance as his body falls out of view.

“Nifty trick.”

The front door slams open again, and honestly _who do they think they are_ to be slamming doors in his house? That’s solid oak—

Akabayashi materializes into view, fangs bared, both eyes thrown wide to reveal his mutilated eye. He’s not even trying to hide anything, both eyes are black as midnight and his fangs are elongated for the world to see, face sharp enough to cut glass.

He’s _furious._

He morphs back into something softer when he sees them, and Izaya waves lazily.

“Good morning to you, too,” Izaya says.

“Where have you been?” Shiki says mildly. “The kids were worried about you.”

“I take offense to that.”

“Oh, just had a few errands to run. Some trash to take out, you know how it is.”

“Not really, how was it?”

The grin threatening at the edges of Akabayashi’s mouth explodes into a full grin. “Well. I managed to find a whole gathering of them, you know. All sitting pretty like little ducklings waiting for the slaughter. No actually it was more like I was the duck. But a duck unexpectedly armed with a machine gun.”

“Huh.”

“Anyway, it was a trap. And they said: get on your knees, and _I_ said: I’m not your mother, and they took offense to that and then I killed them.” Akabayashi's pauses. “I did lose a finger though. Briefly. Might have been restrained for a little.”

“With what?”

“Ropes,” Akabayashi says, disbelief clear in his voice. “Tried to bring some back for you, but was a little distracted.”

“Do better next time.”

Akabayashi gives a sloppy salute, “yes, boss.”

“Shiki,” Izaya says, poking his face, “that’s the softest expression I’ve ever seen. You _do_ have a heart!”

Shiki ignores him.

❖

“Shiki, darling,” Akabayashi pants, “you’re killing me here.”

Shiki locks his legs around Akabayashi’s waist, “you’re already dead.”

Akabayashi drops his head into Shiki’s shoulder, nuzzling at Shiki’s neck, tenderly, for all the tension in his shoulders.

“Please,” Akabayashi tries once more, nipping at Shiki’s neck so that his teeth scrape gently against skin.

“No.”

Akabayashi sighs. “Is this about telling Izaya that you can turn into a crow? Because that was hysterical and I’m not sorry.”

“You did what?”

“Nothing,” Akabayashi says hastily. “But please, love, darling, sweetheart, tell me what it is. Let me _come.”_

 _“_ You got blood on my jacket.”

Akabayashi laughs into his shoulder, something just this side of desperate. “Shiki, _Haruya,_ love of my life, I promise I won’t do it again. I swear on my life.”

“You got _blood_ on it.”

“I know words can never heal this transgression, but please accept my pain as worthy—”

“Fine, _fine.”_

Akabayashi sighs, relaxing almost immediately against Shiki’s chest.

“Well, well, now _that_ was interesting,” Izaya says from the door, watching steadily as Akabayashi pushes off the bed and staggers to the bathroom.

“Hardly,” Akabayashi says, voice strange and echoing, “Shiki _loves_ to be held down. Likes to be fucked hard too, sometimes.

“Not that,” Izaya says, climbing up to curl into Shiki’s side and around him like ivy. “The, ah, was that orgasm denial? How’d you manage that?”

“Don’t you know?” Akabayashi says, amusement lilting through his voice, “vampires can’t come inside without permission.”

There’s silence. Shiki can feel Izaya’s eyes on him, searching for some, for any indication that Akabayashi’s back on his usual shit.

Shiki has none to offer.

“I see,” Izaya says at last.

“One of the many perks of un-living.”

Akabayashi crawls into bed, taking up Izaya’s other side.

It’s not long before Izaya falls into sleep, winding himself tighter around Shiki like he might run away if not confined.

And he’s not wrong.

“Someone miscalculated,” Akabayashi whispers, over Izaya’s head.

“Shut up,” Shiki whispers back, still working his fingers into Izaya’s hair.

Akabayashi snickers but reaches over to place a fond hand on Shiki’s cheek. “It’s good to have you back, though.”

“I don’t need sleep.”

“You do when you spend as much time in the sun as you do.”

“You know why—”

“I know, I _know_ ,” Akabayashi says. “Still doesn’t mean it’s good for you. Still weakens you. Still makes you more vulnerable.”

“I can take care of myself—”

“I know. I _know._ But these ones are getting more dangerous, and you’re not impervious.” Akabayashi’s hand is doing that thing where the fingers start to play in the fringe of hair right behind Shiki’s ear. He got it into his mind a few decades back that it was a weak point of Shiki’s and he’s never seen a good reason to disabuse him of that notion. “And I can’t always be there to dog your steps.”

“I know.”

“I’d hate to see my soulmate ripped to pieces by a bunch of nuts with a violent streak.”

“I’d hardly let that happen.”

“Better not,” Akabayashi says, coming closer to rest his forehead against Shiki’s. “I’d kill you myself.”

“Seems counterproductive. You and your bloodlust,” Shiki says, perhaps a bit more fondly than he means to.

“I love you,” Akabayashi says, “and I’ll rip out the heart of anyone that tries to take you from me.”

“I’d rip out their—”

“So romantic,” Izaya says. “Glad to see the passion never died, ne?”

❖

 “I don’t think Shiki can feel it.”

“Feel what?”

“The,” Izaya gestures vaguely at his midsection, “ _us.”_

“Maybe not you,” Akabayashi says, “but I’m certainly large enough to be felt.”

“The soul connection,” Izaya says, ignoring him.

“Oh, probably because he sold it to get the bloodstains out of clothes.”

“Ah, makes sense.”

❖

Shiki returns back to a rhythmic thumping and breathy moans.

Akabayashi has Izaya bent over the kitchen table again, pinning him by the nape of his neck as Izaya’s hands scramble at the surface.

“Is there any reason why it always has to be the table? And not the bed? With you know, _sheets_? That you can _clean_?”

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine,” Akabayashi says, snapping his hips forward one last time. “Hey, ‘Zaya, has Shiki showed you all the things he can do with his mouth? Sucking blood isn’t the only thing he takes pride in, if you know what I mean.”

“Once or twice,” Izaya says, pushing himself a bit more vertical against the table.

“Are you whoring me out?” Shiki says, but he’s already flipping Izaya on the table, sinking to his knees.

“Hardly,” Akabayashi says, carding his hands through Shiki’s hair. “Just giving you opportunity.”

Izaya is ridiculously responsive, all sorts of breathy moans and twitching thighs and nails at Shiki’s shoulders and trying to be closer.

He’s such a treasure.

"This is why I married him," he hears Akabayashi tell Izaya distantly, and he reaches out to smack him, only to have Akabayashi snicker.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Izaya says when Shiki’s pulled off.

“I’m sure,” Akabayashi says, clearly amused.

“No,” Izaya says, retreating to his home base, where he has notebooks and laptops spread out like defensive bases.

“Oh?”

“The best way to kill a weed to pull it from the roots, ne?” Izaya says. Shiki does not like where this is going.

“I’m listening,” Akabayashi says.

“Every hunter that’s seen me has died a horrible death,” Izaya says, “but considering the country we live in, if they have an information broker that’s worth _anything,_ they know that I’ve been hanging around you extensively.”

“Oh!” Akabayashi says, a smirk spreading across his face.

“Oh,” Shiki says, feeling a headache starting to build right behind his nose.

“My position as an informant gives us a unique edge,” Izaya says, “it wouldn’t be odd in the slightest for me to attempt to sell what I know, ne?”

“And what does that buy us?”

“A way in,” Izaya says. “I trade information for protection, from what I've discovered, they take me to central command, and we're in. Really couldn't be simpler.”

“I already see gaping flaws with the plan,” Shiki says, reaching for his cigarettes. “You’re assuming they have a centralized command, for one. That they have any sort of organization and resources.”

“Eh? What do you take me for?” Izaya says, smirking, sliding a folder across the kitchen table. It’s familiar, the same sort Izaya used to use when Shiki bought information from him, what feels like decades ago. “They’re not as subtle as you would think, mostly they seem to be relying on public disbelief as a shield, hiding in plain view.” Shiki opens the file Izaya’s compiled, flipping through what looks like a collection of police reports and screen shots of a roleplaying forum— wait.

“It’s ingenious, really,” Izaya says, “what humans will come up with, ne?”

“What, what,” Akabayashi says, peeking over Shiki’s shoulder.

“They’ve created a game around it,” Izaya says, propping a chin up on his hand, “caught in public?”

“Cosplaying,” Shiki says.

“Discussing staking creatures?”

“Roleplay.”

“Too bad they do it in plain sight,” Izaya says. “Or might as well, security on their website was, not a joke, jokes are funny. Pathetic might be a better word, ne? I’ve managed to gather that there _is_ a sort of hierarchy and central intelligence system that distributes commands, just not its location.”

“IP tracking not work?”

“Oh, it worked,” Izaya said, “just gave me the location of a little nothing farmhouse in Kansas. Quite quaint, really. I had an associate take pictures, their home decor is _interesting,_ did you know people really mount stuffed heads on their walls? Fascinating. Do you ever wonder what kind of hubris that needs?”

“I live with it,” Shiki says. “But your plan—what if they find out you’re a vampire?”

“Easy, I tell them I have no idea what’s happening to me, that I’m scared, etcetera, etcetera. I can be very convincing.”

“And how will you contact us? How will we locate you?”

Izaya just smirks. “Izaya and I can feel each other,” Akabayashi says. “We think you have no soul, so you can’t.”

“Actually I said that it was just tired.”

Shiki rubs the bridge of his nose. “This is dangerous.”

“I know,” Izaya says.

“There’s so many ways it could go wrong.”

“Yup.”

“You’ve already reached out to them, haven’t you?”

“We’re meeting tomorrow at a karaoke bar I used to hold meeting in,” Izaya confirms, “at around four pm.”

Akabayashi draws in a sharp breath between his teeth, folding his hands in front of him. If Shiki knows anything about him, and after two-hundred years of marriage he damn well _should,_ he’s utterly torn.

And…there goes Akabayashi, rummaging around in Shiki’s pocket for a cigarette. “I would have preferred it was a bit further out,” Akabayashi says at last, “give us a bit of time to train you into something fierce,” Akabayashi takes a drag off his cigarette, “and if you pull this shit again, I’m tying to you the bed for a month, but time is of the essence.”

“Izaya,” Shiki says tiredly, “next time, make us aware of your plans _before_ you set them in motion. It’s just courtesy, really.”

Izaya blinks at them, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Akabayashi snorts, but confirmation is confirmation, no matter how small.

“Bed,” he says darkly.

“Spanking,” Shiki adds.

“Those are awful deterrents,” Izaya says, but he at least has the decency to look contrite.

❖

It's the same karaoke booth he's used a hundred times for a dozen things, but it's not the same at all. The glories scent lights are harsh and grating, the soundproof walls aren't soundproof enough.

The smell of the humans in front of him is a strangely heady combination of stale sweat and the warm smell of livestock. His fangs keep wanting to slide down, to let them know the real relationship here, but he keeps them in check.

Barely.

“You reached out to me several days ago,” Izaya says, looking for information on Aabayahsi Mizuki and Shiki Haruya. Normally I don't take such broad requests, but I made this an exception.” Izaya holds up a manila file. There's information in it, of course. It's even accurate to an extent. It's the official information recorded on driver licenses and housing leases with a few fun details like Akabayashi’s truly excessive cigarette budget and Shiki’s coffee addiction. Enough to look like something for the time it'll take to get to headquarters.

“Give it here,” one of the Hunters says authoritatively, holding a hand out. He has a name, probably something trite and common, and Izaya’s sure he introduced himself, but he was too caught up in the smell of. Something. He thinks it might have been cologne, but it smell like a pine tree pissed on him as he passed under.

“But we haven't discussed my fee,” Izaya says, and the other perks up.

Izaya doesn't remember his name either, and it's very much unlike him, but this one's hair is so bright as to be nearly blinding.

“We have twelve thousand yen here,” he says, so much pride curling through his voice that Izaya can't help but laugh.

“Good for you I don't want cash in exchange, ne? That's hardly enough to cover my appointment fee.”

“Then what do you want?” Pine Pee says.

“I looked into the organization that you belong to—”

Bright Hair tried to leap to his feet but Pine Piss holds him down. “And?”

“It's a very interesting one. Not as old as I expected, but apparently doing respectable work nonetheless, especially considering the _breadth of activists._ But that brings me to what I want. I've attracted a certain amount of attention from these individuals…these vampires—”

“Vampires don't exist,” Bright Hair says with a delivery that would have fooled a toddler. Not cut for the theatre, this one.

“Then I'm afraid we can't be of use to each other,” Izaya says, standing. “Have an excellent—”

“Wait,” Pine Piss says, “what is it you wanted?”

Too easy. “Protection.” A dramatic pause. “I stumbled on something while working with them. And I think they noticed.”

Bright Hair exchanges a look with Pine Piss, something that involves a great deal of eyebrows and mouthed words.

“We can give you protection,” Pine Piss says at last, “but you have to come with us.”

Izaya puts on a frown, and it must be convincing because Bright Hair looks very smug and pleased. “I’m not sure that really works with my business, you understand.”

“We can’t offer you protection outside of our home-base,” Pine Piss says, “vampires are stronger and faster than the average human. There’s no way we can guarantee your house is vampire proof.”

Izaya pretends to droop and sigh. “I suppose it makes sense. Can’t have everywhere be fortified, ne?”

“Let’s go. We have a car, it’ll be safer.”

Sure, they have a car.

Maybe it’s that Izaya’s too used to working with higher end clients, but maybe it’s really as pathetic and stupid as he believes.

Either way, he’s glad he can’t show up on camera as he climbs into a van decorated with nothing but anime girls in various stages of undress. He has the vague thought that it’s not unlike when Shiki eats.

He’ll tell Akabayashi later. He’ll appreciate it.

More importantly, Shiki will not.

❖

“This is it? You’re _certain?”_

 _“_ This is where Izaya is, yes.”

“This is a love hotel.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t notice. What clued you in, was it the rotating sign that said ‘love hotel’? You’re so observant.”

“I’m just saying, it’s not a home base _I_ would have chosen. What’s our plan of attack?”

Akabayashi gives him a sly grin, dropping a hand to fondle Shiki’s ass, “why, dearest, we rent a room, of course.”

Akabayashi spend twenty minutes flipping through the room selections. “Oooh, look! Hello Kitty! Shiki, we have to—”

“Find the headquarters and get this over with? Yes.”

Akabayashi hums. “I’m looking for it.”

“Oh?”

“Of course. If I were them, I’d double the use of my creature hunting weapons for the more…. _specialized_ rooms. And then I’d want them close by, so I’d have the entrance to my HQ nearby.”

“Good thing everybody isn’t as insane as you then.”

“We shall see,” Akabayashi says, selecting a room with a flourish.

There’s an unmarked door near their given room. Akabayashi is radiating smug satisfaction so strong the Hunters can probably feel it.

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh-huh,” Akabayashi says, kicking the door down to reveal a flight of stairs. “You sure you just can’t stand to be wrong?”

Shiki is disappointed in the whole organization to find them at the bottom of the stairs, Izaya lounging on a couch with a cup of tea in his hand, with that dangerous expression of boredom, even as it appears someone was trying to chat with him.

“Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” Akabayashi says, then he’s _off._ He’s in his element, two fall to the ground with fleshy _thuds_ before the rest can move.

Shiki lets him to it, going to sit next to Izaya instead. Anyone that comes too close is quickly dispatched with a quick snap of the neck.

“He’s having fun,” Izaya observes, sipping his tea.

Shiki glances up to see Akabayashi wielding a dismembered arm like a club. “It’s been too long.”

“We should look to see if there are other bases, ne? Make it efficient. Divide and conquer.”

Shiki really doubts there are, but he helps Izaya sort through files to the background music of Akabayashi’s milling spree.

“I’m not seeing anything,” Shiki says.

“Hmm, I’m seeing references to a base in Italy, more of command center, really.”

“We don’t concern ourselves with European politics anymore,” Shiki says, “Akabayashi’s still on several hit lists.”

“Oh?”

“He might have murdered a small clan that tried to work their way into Japan.”

“I see.”

“It makes it not our problem,” Shiki declares, slamming the file cabinet shut. “We can pursue them later.”

“Is that because Akabayashi will want post-bloodbath sex?”

“It’s excellent.”

“Sounds reasonable to me.”

He knew there was a reason he married them.


End file.
